As William Matthews so aptly observed, most published poems fall into one of four basic categories:
1. I had a nice, almost religious day in the woods
this afteroon
2. We're not getting any younger
3. Sure is cold and lonely without you (or with you)
4. Sadness and happiness are but two sides of
same coin: and in any case the coin is
'too soon spent and on we know not what'.
I'd have to admit most of my poetic attempts have fallen neatly into one of the above-mentioned categories. Not blessed with an over-abundance of immagination, I have to go with what I know: rhythmic and figurative language infused with splatterings of the more blatant poetic devices.
I began writing poetry somewhere along mid-life and have kept in-play almost fifty, one-page poems and the manuscript for an allegorical novel about victory and atonement; 'Roll The Gospel Chariot' Visit my blog site for a sneak preview: http: //rollthegospelchariot.blogspot.com/
If it doesn't flow, please let me know.
Before Adam's first election
Must have been the thought of Eve
Nothing less than pure perfection
Sould he so easily deceive
...
In the blinking of an eye
Lost my equilibrium whenever you walked by
Scarcely could have been foreseen
Bewitched me when you twitched your nose at me
...
Staged in neat horizontal rows: Linear. Like so many Bradford pear trees
Beaming out at us from the 'Society' section of the Sunday newspaper
Complete with full frontal smiles betraying idealism grafted onto ignorance
...